


A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Camaro

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Series: Harringrove Week of Love 2020 [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Car Sex, Character Death Fix, Emotional Hangover Recovery Fic, Fix-It, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Harringrove Week of Love 2020, HarringroveWeekofLove Day 3, Humour, Jossed, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Post-Season/Series 03, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22683532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Too bad Hargrove had to go and fuck that up by one day in early spring just fucking showing up in a cornfield outside of Hawkins like nothing'd happened. Not even possessed or anything. Fucking weird. Like, Steve's still a little disturbed. Not enough to prevent him from actively unbuttoning Billy's jeans to cram his hand into his underwear, but you know.It's the worst.Not the literal worst. It's actually the literal best, in that it's the best sex of Steve's life, even though it's only handies and sucking face. Horrible. Again, not literally. Steve needs to be pretty clear about that. If it were mediocre sex, he wouldn't be in this situation.(Written for Harringrove Week of Love Day 3: Car Sex.)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Harringrove Week of Love 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629670
Comments: 6
Kudos: 145
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Camaro

**Author's Note:**

> This is the tamest thing I've written all week, I feel.

The Beamer is Steve's _baby_. It feels like yesterday that he _just_ got it back from his capital-A asshole father. Summer of eighty-five was all the more shitty for his lack of actual transportation. Oh, and sketchy military scientist guys opening portals into monstrous dimensions or whatever.

And, listen, it's not as if Steve even _likes_ Billy Hargrove half of the time. He just thinks the dude's hot. Like, objectively. You know, if anyone were to ask him. About Billy. Not that anyone would. Guy's a dick.

For sure doesn't _really_ like him is what he means. Certainly not as much as the Beamer. Competition's stiff there anyway.

"I hate you," he moans between kisses, lips feeling bee-stung, a little distracting when they're against Billy's, warmth pressing in.

"Uh huh," Billy says back as he shifts a few inches, sounding far too unconcerned.

It's only Tuesday, but they're at it again in the Beamer's backseat, once more parked by the quarry. And, judging by Billy's smirk buried in the crook of his neck—and he _is_ smirking, Steve can feel the edges of his lips, the fullness of his cheeks—Steve's pretty sure he should already be regretting this. Nothing good could come out of it, except for orgasms, but that's par for the course by now.

Billy being back in Hawkins is still fucking weird. His family moved away almost a year to the day of their first arrival in town, and then the rest of that fall and winter came and went without much in the way of unsettling shit. Too bad Hargrove had to go and fuck that up by one day in early spring just fucking showing up in a cornfield outside of Hawkins like nothing'd happened. Not even possessed or anything. Fucking weird. Like, Steve's still a little disturbed. Not enough to prevent him from actively unbuttoning Billy's jeans to cram his hand into his underwear, but you know.

It's the worst.

Not the literal worst. It's actually the literal best, in that it's the best sex of Steve's life, even though it's only handies and sucking face. Horrible. Again, not literally. Steve needs to be pretty clear about that. If it were mediocre sex, he wouldn't be in this situation.

The situation being the both of them kneeling awkwardly in the Beamer, each other's hands inside their clothes, be it thumbing at zippers or pulling at waistbands.

Steve's not really thinking about what they're doing here, which is unlikely to change anytime soon to not-naked shenanigans anyway. It should give him anxiety or whatever that he's messing around with Billy, of all people, but after all the shit in Hawkins it's kind of nice to have some peace and quiet to enjoy the little things. Not that Billy's little _like that_ , which Steve would've totally wagered on before they got naked and hard together for the first time. Like, dude's a grower, and frustratingly so, but Steve's not about to complain. Obviously.

Well, not about _that_.

"That was the longest piss of your life."

The Beamer is one of the most recognisable cars in town. It idling in a diner parking lot for a good fifteen minutes waiting for Billy Hargrove to pick up an extra order of fries is not ideal. Or to take a piss right when he knew Steve was coming over to pick him up. Neither of them is exactly subtle about the type of people they are, especially with each other, but Steve sometimes gets the feeling Billy's messing with him on purpose, making things awkward or weird to make a point Steve's not even getting.

"Don't be pissy I kept you waiting, princess."

Typical. Steve should put his foot down, is going to any minute now.

Billy's teeth catch on his lower lip, worrying at it before moving on to nibbling at the underside of Steve's jaw. "Ugh, shut up," he groans. He's going to bruise. Again. Awful.

"Uh huh."

Not that he's getting any actual quiet. Granted, that's more on Steve's inability to bitch right back when Billy's being _difficult_ , but still.

He ends up straddling Billy's lap. Somehow. Well, he knows how. Billy manhandles him over, closer. Grabs the top of his calves, up at the hollow of his knees over his jeans, to drag him forward. The tops of his thighs are surprisingly comfortable to sit on. Steve tries not to think about how he's straddling Billy's quads, one of the reasons Billy spends an extra twenty minutes working out every other day. Definitely one of the most annoying things about him is how much he does not give a shit that he's basically working out for the hell of it, setting time aside for it which he could be spending doing... _other things_. Whatever.

"Whatever," Steve breathes out. His voice sounds rough, about to crack.

Dry, steady hands are pulling at his shirt, pulling it up to palm at his ribs and worry at the underside of his pecs, while Steve's hands are definitely getting the full grower experience, Billy's cock already heavy and hot. Before this, Steve would've said getting a hand could never compare to putting it in, or even getting a wet mouth around his dick, but he keeps coming back for just this, so there's no denying it's doing something for him. Like, he's actively tried to deny it, but there's only so much one guy can do in the face of great sex.

"Are you gonna shut up?" Billy asks, but it sounds ( _Finally!_ ) a little breathy, a little like it's too much for him, too. Like Steve's not alone in leaking in his underwear in his empty bedroom thinking about getting together wherever and whenever they can. Like maybe Billy's hands are, at long last, a little unsteady where they're impatiently scrambling to lift up Steve's shirt to get it off him.

But Billy's still a dick, so Steve says, "Make me."

And if the Beamer were to get messy, then Steve will definitely bitch about it, and make no mistake.

It's a temporary situation anyway.

Steve's got options.

Like, how expensive could it be to get a Camaro that's been totalled in the middle of a battle against an inter-dimensional slime monster in working order anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I think I'm funny. I crack myself up, for real. I'm that big of a dork.
> 
> Yes, I have a [tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/).


End file.
